om's POV
The next morning, I pedaled my bike through the quiet streets, my mind a whirlwind of revenge plots and schemes. Tyler thought he had me cornered, playing some twisted game. Well, if that's how he wants to play, then I've got the upper hand. I wasn't about to fall for his stupid little tricks, especially not with Imogen.
"I bet she's with him right now, making out or some shit," I muttered under my breath, the words slipping out before I could stop them. But almost immediately, a sharp pang of jealousy clenched tight in my gut.
The thought of Imogen with Tyler made me sick to my stomach. No—wait. That's not just it. It's not really about her. It's about hating the idea of a girl as beautiful, smart, and talented as Imogen wasting her time with a dumb asshole like Tyler. Yeah—that's what it is. I told myself that, convincing myself I wasn't just jealous, I was annoyed at the whole situation.
But deep down, a voice whispered in the back of my mind, : Keep telling yourself that.
When I arrived at school, I parked my bike in a nearby bush, out of sight but close enough so Tyler and his goons wouldn't steal it. I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of messing with my stuff—not today. Not ever.
As I took a deep breath and swung my leg over the bike, I pushed aside the swirling chaos in my mind. Whatever game Tyler was playing, I was going to turn it against him. Just you wait.
As I approached the school building, my eyes landed on her—the way her smile lit up her face like today's bright sunshine. She was cheerfully waving her hand at someone, and I couldn't help but wonder—who's the lucky bastard? But then, as I drew closer, I realized she was waving at me. Why? I stopped in my tracks, caught off guard.
"Hey, perv," she called out, nudging my shoulder playfully as if we were friends. Her tone was casual, almost teasing. "I didn't get your name yesterday."
I blinked, annoyed. "What do I need your name for? It's not like we're friends," I shot back, keeping my tone cool but dismissive. Her smile fluttered for a moment, and I saw it—her expression tightening just a little. I'd hit a nerve. Good. I told myself to stay cool, to not play into whatever game she was running.
But I couldn't help thinking: Quite playing, I know Tyler sent you. That thought snapped into my mind like a punch. I knew her kind—she was another one of them laughing at my misery. "It's not like we can't be friends," she said softly, her smile returning, as if trying to bridge some invisible gap.
I started walking faster, eager to put distance between us. I didn't want to get caught up in whatever she was trying to do.
"And your name?" she shouted after me.
I hesitated for a moment, then called back without turning around. "Tom." As I walked away, my mind was racing—why did I answer her? Why did I even bother? The question echoed in my head, sharp and persistent. Because maybe, deep down, part of me wanted to see where this could go. Or maybe I just wanted this to be real. Either way, I couldn't shake the feeling that things will only get worse
I quickly shook off the lingering feeling from earlier as I slid into my seat in first period. I made my way to the back of the classroom, settling into my usual spot. My eyes drifted to my phone, scrolling aimlessly through notifications, trying to block out everything else.
Then I noticed something—someone was sitting next to me. I looked up slightly from my phone, and my gaze was met with a pair of legs. Beautiful legs, exposed just enough by a very short skirt. The girl shifted slightly in her chair, causing her skirt to ride up a little more. Fuck, if only the skirt could ride up just a bit more.
I looked up fully, my eyes locking onto her face. It was none other than Imogen. She was sitting there, smiling brightly, her face lit up as if she was sitting next to her best friend, not some random guy she barely acknowledged.
Great. What the hell is she doing here? We've gone to the same school for four years, and she's only choosing to acknowledge me now? Coincidence? No... Tyler, yes